Ol Thang Back - Juelz Santana, Don Q

Listen, you might learn some

Jahlil Beats, holla at me

Jadakiss where you been, where you at

This rap is wack

I want that old thing back

I want that old thing back

Some niggas tell a lot, some niggas sell a lot

Some niggas used to be mad nice, then fell a lot

Albums still trash I don’t care who the hell you got

Portraying the role of a G, we can tell you not

Sorry to bother you, I’m only doing what a father do

Your production is horrible, you’ll forever be a nerd

And your metaphors are better off, never being heard

I came in grinding, Puff made me shining

Put 'em both together, a protege of the 90's

Grew up, put that bullshit behind me

Started making niggas demises untimely

Looking for me, come to the hood you can find me

Gucci belt right on the waist where the 9 be

.38 right in the garbage, where the packs at

M1 right in the trunk, where the jacks at

Whoever is in arm length will get backslapped

Cause I ain’t playing with these rap cats

This is the flow you can’t learn

The dutch you can’t burn

Nigga, I’ve got stripes you can’t earn

Method Man, where you been where you at

These rap niggas is wack, I want that old thang back

Yeah, I want that old thang back

Yeah, I want that old thang back

You got the M. E, the M.E., the M.E., the M., M., M.,

The M.E.T.H.O.D.

Man

You need a dopefiend track

Let me shoot up and lean back

With this needle stuck in my arm, never tuck in my charm

Most my team sling crack

If I hit every corner with G packs

Might cause the man DC to relapse

I’m a Hip hop junkies, who needs rap?

MC’s wack, Killerbees is back in the booth

Mind your beeswax

And fuck a style that you got

We blow a cap at any Energizer bunny right where his battery at

Look, the bastard child of Clarence Thomas and Reagonomics

On every 1st and 15th make sure you pay me homage

Might break a promise but never breaking the code

Got the floor safe, coke in the pot, fiend at the stove

Meth, rock a W on my clothes

I’m a straight rider, straight to the W with these hoes

I’m straight fire, these motherfuckers is froze

Like a skinny supermodel that like to powder her nose

Redman, where you been where you at

These rap niggas is wack, I want that old thang back

I want that old thang back

I want that old thang back

Dope boy, I’m like Rick James, I got that old thang

I got a gold chain, with gold frames

Doc doing the runnerman on Soul Train

With a chinese girl, the chicken get Lo Mein

Propane for the raw, I put her on the streets

My thoughts, the blue magic put on the beats

Game time, Doc rocket like Dominique

Straight vegetarian nigga and ignore the beef

Yeah, Kyrie keep the blow smoking

Slide in the club, cool like the floor frozen

Check out the wild thang got a Tone Lōco

Big ass and high heels with the toes open

That’s me, 90's MC

Fuck a Grammy awards, underground is tax free

Look in the mirror I feel fantastic

The mirror said 'you are, you conceited bastard'

Santana, where you been where you

These rap niggas is wack, I want that old thang back

I want that old thang back

Tell 'em I want that old thang back

I came to bring the pain

Put niggas to shame, simple and plain

They gon' remember my name

And it’s all for respect not fame

So don’t play with me

You could give 'em rope, they still can’t hang with me

Pass the baton, they still can’t race with me

So far ahead of these niggas they still chasing me

I wouldn’t be surprised if niggas ghostwriters got ghostwriters

Nothing cease to amaze you

Labels used to care, even though they was raping me

Now it’s 360 deals, modern day slavery

Fuck you, who payin' me, I’m the one recording

We’ll sue you for extortion or fame over fortune

The game done changed, the sound done changed

All these niggas sound the same

The word loyalty don’t even sound the same

Good thing I keep the pound, when it bang it always sound the same

I aim at the game, the real shall remain

Neck full of water like I drowned my chain

Flier than a nigga jumping out the plane

Higher than you niggas, you can find the strain

Better than you niggas that’s without me saying

Treat the money like the work, we don’t count, we weigh it

For this amount we aim it, blaze it, flame it

big as a shower head, you don’t want me spraying

Enough with the mumble jumble

Santana back though, can I get a drum roll?

Whole lotta kush and it’s stuffed in a fronto

Fiends still say my work taste like gumbo

Yeah, bring that old thang back

I was told to whip it up and bring the whole thang back

When I was pumping coke, you was jumping rope

I was runnin' out of bags, you was playing tag

While you was hop scotching, I was drop shopping

At the dealer paying cash for them paper tags

While you was pop locking, I was Glock popping

Getting to the cash, brown paper bags

Blowing money fast and it never last

Yeah, they make it fast, barely make it back

Haters gonna suffer, I’m okay with that

All this garbage, time to throw away the trash